Below the Surface

If I scratch the surface,

would I find an itch?

or would I find a chasm

corroded by a bitch

either them be true 

my conscience it doth say

just stick a plaster on it

we'll look another day

It ends when it comes

A weakened soul replicates an owl 

concerned this delicate branch will fail

lay still, perturbed to retrace

today's shift a far off place

eventually will arrive in its own time 

if one awakens to save face

A constant sorrow known too well

frequently isolated constant spell

not to mention that fateful word

down in the dungeon unheard

way down where the brave men go

sleep will come, when?, they hear you so

don't be ridiculous, no man will know

Memories trace back, looking forward

A piece in the middle, a quizzical walrus

cutting through ice a piece at a piece

life's not forever it's only on lease

a day past an hour, aquire some sleep

everything ends in black 

Magnus

                          

                        Saw it

                    all in one day

             a vibrant view at noon     

        fifteen revolutions of New York 

     one hundred and thirty three days 

     alone on a deserted space station   

 Sahara dessert craves attentive yelloW

   the stars come out at night to sparkle

    relevantly radical and awe inspiring 

       electrical engineer remarkable

           sts -112, 2002, neemo 11

                  specialist system

                      sts - 119

                        

Damn Garden

Autumn is here,

once again my garden is covered in leaves, you see it's surrounded by trees,

every November I pick them up,

every November I pick them up, 

every November I pick them up,

I could have been a singer, a roofer, I could have been the man fixing your computer, but that damn garden is covered in leaves, so I better pick them up, while I'm down on my luck.

Ghosts in the past

Curb your enthusiasm 

how dull is a wrench

silver sparkle within the black

relieve the pressure off his back

rusty cart requires oil, a ponies last trek

closed yet spirits remain on the track

Curb your enthusiasm

how dark a town be

kept alive with death, no returning muscle

white skin, a shower put in 

vegetable soup, you're off the grisle

a monument built of steel to last 

the ghosts are far off in the past

Curb your enthusiasm 

Robin of sherwood, oh Nottingham sigh

it was inevitable!, treacherous scum cry

the day must end, so doth the year

so scatter wide, thy noise round fire 

open a tin, settle in and have a beer

the rich have Christmas

our spirit died here.

Loved but Hated

I wish no harm, an unbearable pain 

tearing at my sanity, emotionally inept

overwrought with compassion

holding normality together 

tragically silent in suffering

while the world suffers hate

weeping without showing

shut the fucking gate

Please shut the fucking gate

Plea's screaming unheard

my heart suffers deep

I cannot change the circumstance 

in which action that I weep

the mind overuneth,

the cup hath no chance

torture oneself cruely 

then have another dance 

do not be seen

have another dance

Continue without showing

I cannot bare life anymore

continue but not giving

a hint of what's in store

a paradoxical torture 

ironical so it seems

honest in a weakness 

hate me for loves sake

not meant to be a bore

so shut the fucking door

Please shut the fucking door

I hear the Woodpecker

Hear the sound of a baby crying

the baaing of a sheep

a gentle sound of wheezing while

you lay asleep

A rustle in the treetops

thundering of the rain

whistle in the chillin' wind

tears through a sorrowed brain

Darkness is a torture

as if we are but blind

exhilarating journey 

of a hazardous kind

The hooting of an owl tells the

screeching of a bat 

"hear that captured rabbit scream,

he's caught in a foxes trap"

wonderous sounds of life

delightful adrenalin fright

fills the world with peaceful joy

through shattered sleep at night

tired in the evening

exhausted in the day

depression grips the dead inside,

he has a peculiar way. 

Love is peace

individual terrorists kill

pathologically, abnormal 

aim at will

theologically twisted 

pour tuer l'innocence

evil bastards do not feel

peace loving Muslims, Christians too

should stand together to deny you

group of devilry have no place 

upon this earth for the human race

les emmener a' l'enfer

evil disgrace

lavage de cerveau par le mal

save the world with love

use it as a power

from the Lord above

they shall not win 

with a Kalashnikov 

Man

Virtual command incorporates artificial intelligence, play a game, score a win,

artistic imaginations locked in, 

then begin.

Organic computers reading books, correct Childrens future spelling, mathematical logarithms, "you should know this your five years old!" 

round fat futuristic race, humanity lazy, keep up with the pace, "please lift your feet" the robot will ask with a smile on its face, networked killing machines linked to control the human waste. 

Control biorythms, great machines, mental reasoning to program likewise hand it over to trilobites of microbiological technicality, write the program for eventuality, leave it to them, then 

forget the ability. 

technologicaly advances beyond the plan

Authorise computers to reason with man

Hand them birthright, Citizenship main

give permission to control the game

humanity over joyous, pursue to be gods

hypocritically arrogant, 

self righteous sods

"bright endeavour from where did you come?", "I came from the place, a birthright of son, they seek perfection

but none they will find, the human race 

is far too unkind". "oh bright endeavour what shall we do?", "let the light have its pleasure to see the work through","microwave the planet be rid of its host, peace reign on Earth",

"when man is a ghost".

Wear a poppy?

Though I forget not, the least I can give

succumbed to the moment of loved ones distress, I weep with heart fullness address.

Every son blindly into war, courageous at a score, death doth not become a pure boys heart, he never so young was meant to depart.

Adorn a poppy not for the pleasure of conflict, nor for the conflict of pleasure, nor for the worth of having a measure. Adorn a poppy if one must for the innocence of a youthful gust.

If one must die, a necessary cause or just, not a decision of a greedy must

fight against repression of soulful will

Not the chance of a financial kill

we have enough ornaments,

on a window sill.

This day gives for a child who blindly gave his life, for the husband of a grieving wife, for the soldier who lived and died by the knife, one cannot repair a heart with mournful blight.

Same year, worlds apart!

1935 when you were born,

like a fall from grace, you captured us all.

you loved everyone, everyone loved you,

precious as a child, sensitive and brave, Doodle bugs dropping wave after wave, you got me through when I heard King Creole, I had a clean home not a shit hole.

The Angels were singing 'Love me tender' when you went with God to his big wide home, you could be peaceful in the valley and quite unknown.

judgement day would not come for you that day, for you were welcome in heaven anytime, come what may.

you were generous, caring, without fault, you sang as though you were an angel 

I heard as your biggest fan, I have always felt 'Lost', even more now your not here, now I am a man, I find it hard to stand

yet I will!, If it is gods plan, I will stay here till' my end to meet with you again

an Elvis fan and a loving son, most wonderful woman that lived in my eyes, 'My Mum'.

The November Line

Witness the intensity of planets this week

perception of a highway into heaven

Path to the earth, distant from the moon

destination to the stars, elapse too soon

"step up, step up" each person see

a serendipitous shift in ones destiny

Blackness' o'er the land and wide 

ubiquitous, far-reaching, sound

content to shred the fear to hide

bloodened be the stain abound

inception be an eerie place

birthright of the Satan race

grace' take us fast in our sleep

deliver us swiftly from the world

Oh'liberate us from the Devils keep

as lambs we follow into hell

the teacher knows his pupils well.

I write coz

I write to the moonlight, I write to the stars,                   
I write about sorrow, I write about scars,                
I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad,

I write about feelings that drive me half mad,

most of all I write to be me, 

to travel to places, set my life free

I write to Christians, aethiests and Jews,

Consistently write the wrong words to you

the featureless face hides a mannequins grin, 

the soulless echo of words deep within,

I write of the teenagers in romantic sin

party animal people pissed up with gin

mostly I write for the gluttonous bin

now look at the fucking state I am in

Troubled Sleep

I live, work, breathe, go through the motions, unnequivocally unchanging 

on the narrow path tiresomely steep

yet I'm  always asleep when I weep

rattled by the things I see and hear

almost an inclusion, a sight 

a narrow corridor, a peep

most people are confoundly irritated when I am around, perhaps that's why I'm always asleep when I weep

I've heard it before absorbed from generations of ancient stories given to us by centuries past through the ground

I'm far too stupid to be profound

Grandad died with a knowledge 

he has taken it with him to keep

Yet to me it's a repetitive sound

maybe that's why I'm always asleep when I weep, too tired to carry on

I always sleep then I weep

Pine table

Nostrils saviour the smell of pine

turn, cut, smoothen out

craft of a hand steady

skill is detail

a bowl

fruit

table

Inanimate 

collecting dust

thirty years a tree

thirty years for me

rotten sweet fruit

mouldy apple

soft plum

sandpaper 

return to wood

senses are mine

the faint smell of pine

polish with antique wax

put it on the big brown table

fruit in a bowl sit down and relax

Innocent smiles😌

Soggy vegetables, worn out shoes

detestable conditions the air is dry,

cockroaches;crunching sound on polystyrene tiles, 

damp squalid walls

hear the joy of innocent smiles

draconian blue, poppy red,

dust in the lungs of a perpetual youth,

moulded rice cakes,

mucused slime of trailed slugs suggesting a pattern, 

concrete cancer in towers, 

high rise fall from sloth

ignorant minds, innocent smiles

smoothed green fur surrounding metal windowed frames,

condensational graffitied glass

a nose resting all eyes seeing 

view of a spectacular city

gun goes "bang bang", innocent smiles

wheezing, sneezing, depressed,

bronchial pneumonia 

tear stained tshirt,smell of death consumed stale oxygen for the last time

a new born baby, an innocent smile

Have you ever?

"Aah bless them they are so lovely, look at them sitting quietly in the corner, turn the music up Dave, let's enjoy this rave"

"Aaah, are you alright loveys?, have you got a drink?", "what would you like?", "a lager and a sherry, Aaah alright", "DAVE GET THE OLD COUPLE IN THE CORNER A LAGER AND A SHERRY" AND HURRY UP COZ IM FEELING MERRY"

"that was good what a laugh, now I'm gonna have a bath!, watch that old couple don't fall asleep, I'm sure he's had too many whiskys, oih don't you get frisky!"

"Aaah have you had fun?, perhaps you should go home now, it's getting late! 

there you go, don't forget to shut the front gate, now they've gone we can party great"

"it was a bit young for them oldies, who invited them Dave?, they should be in bed by ten!. you did you daft aper, come and give me a hug then" and listen to the New year by the bells of Big Ben

Trials and tribulations of a narcissist

An awkward end a deliberate lie

forcing a bid to ask the question...why?

tattered, shred, a worn out bed

Obliviously blind

must be soft in the head!

The cheese has turned a revolting smell

inside the corpse holds a rotting shell 

half a bottle of corked valpollicella 

fragments on the carpet,

I could not tell her

shattered, whimsical to the end

a broken glass that could not mend

Relativity holds the key

it must be something withinside of he

a damaged chromosome

mutilated gene

something so hidden

that cannot be seen

A flowers strength, veins up the stem

neatly ironed trousers, a damaged hem

trod on by shoes covered in shit

a narrow point of view, steep sided pit

On the edge of a mountain

through snow covered hills

a blizzard forecast

photographs are stills

Movement described by an artists hand

the chills moved on to the pleasant land

seven archangels a musical theme

welcome once more

to the promised dream

Northern Line

Observing the tunnel, from a midnight view, contemplating his dinner a mighty beef stew

The angel ahead seen as a light, signals are good, green shows alright, platform edge clear, passengers move back, except for one man looking down on the track, he did not respond to the hoot of the horn, unknown to the driver he wished he weren't born

brakes screeching hard stop with a thud, one carriage past, on the screen there is blood

"stay in the cab" the controller advised

driver distraught,  reacting quite brave, somewhat contrived

a selfish act if they have their say,    

that inconsiderate person destroyed our day

try to see it the other side, a family destroyed, a heartbreak for a bride

sad loss for a girl as beautiful as the sky

deserves more contemplation than a whimper and sigh

 a tragedy for many, a soul gone wrong

life is so precious live it for long

The Carpenters Arms

Truman light ale methodically pumped into a glass, whisky at 1/6th of a Gill always politely passed,

Yet this quaint little pub on the corner had a secret in its past

Painted deep blue colour on the window pane, sign above the door that says please come again

Mum counting change backwards with a smile on her face, Bill has one more whisky chaser almost a disgrace

The Landlady would ask for help in the small dark cellar, Mum would nod approval, if i had the chance to tell her

Bottles down the chute stacked into crates, 'enjoyed life then' working at eight, remarking happily to my mates.

Childhood recollections of good times, at a last, such a shame those days have gone along with the working class. 

life is Cruel, uncaring, obtuse, somehow crass

Yet this quaint little pub on the corner had a secret in its past.